Not Quite Right
by RobinL
Summary: Oneshot angst. Ranger's POV as he tries to deal with letting go of Steph.


Title: Not Quite Right

Author: Robin

Disclaimer: They aren't mine and I'll put them back where I found them.

A/N: Angst alert. Spoilers through TS. Please be warned that the characters in this story are adults who behave that way, even when it is irresponsible. Please read and review! Thanks.

Rating: R for strong sexual situations and language

_Several months after the events in Twelve Sharp..._

I didn't want to look too closely at the woman under me. Like the others, she was close, but not quite. I tangled my hands in her long hair, it was curly, but a little too light. I moved my hands over her shoulders and down to cup her breasts which, while lovely, were a little too small. I trailed my hands down lower, over her slim and shapely legs, wrapping them around my waist as I settled between her thighs. They were great legs, but they were a little too short.

She was not quite right, but she'd have to do. With the lights low and the liquor dulling my brain, I was almost able to imagine that this woman was the one I wanted.

I couldn't remember her name, Tiffany... or Charity... or maybe Kimberly. I really didn't care. Stroking a hand over her abdomen, I skimmed over her soft skin until my fingers found her wet center making her moan as I called her Babe. I called them all Babe. It was easier that way.

I pressed my lips to hers as I thrust myself into her welcoming flesh. Her moans I swallowed with my kiss, because they were all wrong… too breathy, the pitch too high. Her kiss didn't taste right, but I tried to ignore that, too. I struggled to lose myself in her, in the sensation, if only for a few minutes, to ease the ache that was my constant companion. Maybe this one would finally fill the void in me.

I brought her to her climax first, the least I could do considering I was using her to exorcize someone else from my mind and body. I came almost immediately after, grunting, biting my lower lip to keep from uttering the name of the woman who I pretended was surrounding me. With my release I collapsed bonelessly on my forearms, taking care not to totally crush the body beneath me.

Still breathing hard, I rolled off of her, a hand covering my face. As with the others before, I felt emotions choking me and I fought the urge to cry out my frustration. I wasn't sure if that instant where I came apart and was able to momentarily forget that I was no longer whole was worth the emotional aftermath. How could I be so intimately connected to another person one moment and yet feel so alone the next, the desolation worse than before?

The woman next to me stirred, purring in contentment, a smile on her lips. She rolled over, cuddled against my chest and kissed me, a look of satiated adoration in her not-blue-enough eyes. I suppressed the urge to bolt from her bed, instead curving my arm around her back.

As she drifted to sleep, I lay on my back staring at the ceiling, waiting for her breathing to even out. Once she was asleep, I'd leave. I wouldn't, couldn't stay to face the imposter in the harsh light of day. I was barely able to face myself. I would leave her a note thanking her for a lovely evening, but making no promises for the future. I'd never see her again.

She was probably a very nice girl, but she wasn't the one.

I would never have the one I wanted most.

A few weeks ago, she'd gotten married to the cop. I'd been invited to the wedding, but I declined the invitation. I figured that it was inappropriate under the circumstances. It felt disrespectful to wish a couple everlasting happiness when I really wanted the groom to drop dead. So, I sent a gift that Ella picked out along with my regrets.

Regrets... I actually laughed at the thought, the sound harsh in the silent bedroom causing the girl's eyelashes to flutter before she relaxed into me again. Hell, my regrets were too numerous to list. The biggest was that I'd been too cowardly to seize my chance when I'd had it. I'd pushed her away every time she got close to me, right back into the arms of the cop. And on more than one occasion.

The last time had been several months ago, just days after Scrog shot me. That day, she had looked sweeter than the birthday cake she'd brought to me. If I'd been feeling better, I'd have taken her in my arms and then I would have taken her in my bed, Morelli be damned. But with the broken rib, I wasn't up to moving, so we just talked. At first we talked about inane things, Burg gossip mostly, but before long her eyes turned serious and my breath caught, not from pain, but from the naken emotion I saw written on her face.

That was when she told me she loved me.

Even as I inwardly rejoiced to hear those words on her lips, I was too terrified to let her know that I felt the same way, afraid to tell her I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life beside her. That was my heart's deepest desire, but I'd never let myself have it. So, instead I'd told her that she shouldn't love me... that it wasn't safe to love me... that my life was too dangerous, as recent events had proved.

She had just nodded, unsurprised but disappointed, her beautiful blue eyes bright with unshed tears. She leaned into me, pressed a sweet kiss to my lips and said goodbye. Then she turned and walked out of my apartment. What I didn't know at the time was she was walking out of my life.

Less than a month later, the girls at the bonds office had informed me with perverse pleasure that Stephanie resigned and that she was getting married. I'd tried to keep my face impassive while I fought the urge to put my fist through the seventies-era wood paneled wall. I didn't speak, fearing that my voice would betray my emotions, so I nodded my acknowledgment, scooped up my files and walked out. Speculative silence followed behind me.

I'd called Tank when I got into the Turbo, told him I was offline, disabled my GPS and drove to the first bar I could find. I was drunk before noon.

That marked the first of many days I'd spent deep in my cups. But, it wasn't until the day of her wedding that I started screwing every brunette in Trenton in an effort to get her out from under my skin or maybe to drive her deeper in, I wasn't sure which.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Three weeks earlier..._

It was the day of the wedding and a light rain was falling, matching my morose mood. If my grandmother's superstitions were to be believed, it meant good luck for the bride and groom. Something about a wet knot holding tighter than a dry knot. The only knot I was sure about was the one in my stomach. I wanted this not to be my life.

I couldn't go to the wedding and pretend to be happy for them, but I couldn't stay away either. I drove one of the RangeMan SUVs to the church, parking across the street and I watched as wedding guests, huddling under umbrellas, filed into the church. Included on the guest list were several of my guys and a few of Steph's regular skips, along with half of the Burg and most of the Trenton PD. Tank glanced in my direction as he escorted Lula into the church, but luckily he didn't approach me. He and I weren't exactly seeing eye to eye lately.

Morelli emerged from a car with his groomsmen, nervously fidgeting with his bow tie looking slightly uncomfortable in his tux. But I could see there was a wide smile splitting his face as he greeted a few straggling guests and then he practically bounded up the steps in his excitement before disappearing inside.

Finally, when everyone was settled in the church, a limo pulled up. Stephanie emerged, the chauffeur shielding her from the rain with a wide umbrella, Mary Lou and Valerie helping to carry her train as they hurried her up the church steps. She looked radiant in her gown, hair loose and curling down her back. She was so beautiful and I wondered how I could have ever let her go. She stopped at the top of the steps and turned to look over her shoulder... right at me. She knew I was there even though the tinted windows made it impossible for her to see me.

"Babe," I whispered. I was tempted to run to her, throw her over my shoulder and steal her away, like a character in some romance novel. My hand gripped the door handle preparing to do just that, but ultimately I released it and did nothing. Life wasn't a romance novel and the reasons we had to be apart would still be there even if I ruined her wedding day and her chances for a normal, happy life.

She paused for a moment as if waiting to see what I'd do. When she realized I wasn't going to do anything, she shook her head with a sad smile and turned back to the church, moving over the threshold with a resolute step.

I rested my forehead on the steering wheel and berated myself for being every kind of fool. A fool for falling for her, a fool for letting her go, a fool for allowing this marriage happen and a fool for sitting here, torturing myself by watching it.

I tried to start the truck and drive away, but somehow I was still sitting there when the guests poured out of the church a short while later. The rain had stopped and the cheering crowd gathered in front of the church doors. They pelted the laughing couple with rose petals as they ran hand-in-hand down the steps. If she realized I was still there, she didn't spare me a glance.

She and Morelli disappeared into the waiting limo and drove away as I stared after them. Then I waited until the happy group dispersed, heading to the reception to toast the newlyweds and dance and drink to their future.

I drove to a bar, I didn't care which one, so I could drink to their future, too. But mine wouldn't be a joyous celebration. It was more like a wake honoring the death of my heart. A thing I'd long suspected I didn't possess, until it broke by my own hand. How could doing the right thing hurt so badly?

I drank for hours, each drink making my waitress, an attractive brunette named Melanie according to her name tag, look a little bit more like Stephanie and a lot more appealing. Until finally, I passed out under a table.

Opening my eyes to a strange room, I found I was lying in a strange bed next to a strange woman. I couldn't remember for my life how I'd ended up here... so much for being aware of my surroundings. I finally recognized the woman as the waitress from the bar, Melanie, I think it was. I was in her bed and surmised that she must have brought me home with her so my drunk ass didn't end up in jail.

Still feeling the effects of my alcoholic orgy, I rolled over to her, kissed her awake and proceeded to fuck her until I forgot that this woman wasn't and never could be my Babe. The euphoria of my climax didn't last, but there was a fleeting moment when I came in her and I felt like a whole person again. But then the moment passed and I crashed, the emptiness overwhelming. I wanted to cry, to scream, to sink into the earth, to roll over and die, but I couldn't. The emotions were there, but I just couldn't bring myself to care enough to express them.

Just before dawn, I slipped out of her bed, called Tank for a ride and I walked away without looking back.

Melanie became the first of many as I tried to fill the hole that was carved in my chest. Since then I was living two lives. By day I ran my business, being the dispassionate, calculating badass that most people knew. But I lost myself at night, searching for something that would make me complete again and not the walking shadow I'd become. It was a strategy that's proved to be futile, as tonight's events showed. Stephanie was part of my every breath, my every thought and my every move, she just wasn't part of my life anymore.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Which brings us back to the present..._

I slipped my arm from under the sleeping woman and eased out of the bed, careful not to awaken her. It was so much simpler to leave while they slept, fewer lies, fewer broken promises, maybe one less black mark against my lost soul. Hell, who was I kidding, my seat in hell was a sure thing long ago, but now I really felt like I deserved it.

I gathered my clothes, pulling the pants and shirt on silently, sitting down on a dainty chair to tie my boots. I stood up to find a piece of paper and pen, when the woman in bed rolled over blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

Damn.

I leaned over the bed and pressed my lips to her forehead, "I've gotta go. Got a really early morning."

"Okay," she whispered, her voice husky with sleep. "You have my cell number, right? Call me."

"I will," I told her, inwardly wincing with the lie as a wave of guilt washed over me and I walked out the door.

When I got to my car, I slumped in my seat. I just needed to go back to how I was before... before I loved Stephanie and before I gave her up. But going back was like trying to pack minutes into a box or catch sound in a butterfly net. It just wasn't possible. I couldn't go back, but I didn't know how I could go on like this. I was having an attack of conscience, like I'd had every other morning as the booze wore off, and I vowed that I would stop the insanity. I would stop trying to regain something I never had in a way that couldn't possibly give it to me. But, even as I made that vow, I knew that despite the guilt, tonight I would be on the hunt again.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When I got to the bar, I sat in a dark corner, alone, and drank. I was looking for a woman who maybe this time could make me feel right again, who could give me back the chunk of my soul that I lost when I'd sent Stephanie away.

I saw her at the bar, a pale imitation, and I decided that tonight, she was the one. I didn't know who she was and it didn't matter. I drank until my mind got fuzzy and my vision blurred. Until not quite right was good enough... as good as I was ever going to get.


End file.
